


A Certain Romance

by teenwolf-lit (fizzingweaselbee)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, not stalia friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 21:10:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1956279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzingweaselbee/pseuds/teenwolf-lit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles gently turning Malia down multiple times because he likes Derek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Certain Romance

**Author's Note:**

> For the request: "yeah but stiles repeatedly trying to turn malia down (bc he likes derek, obviously) but her not understanding bc he's trying to do it gently (i don't know how to word this properly, but you get what i mean, right?)"

"C’mon, I said I’d help you study," Stiles said, gently pushing Malia off of him, wishing they’d never started working in his bedroom.

Malia pouted, picking up a red highlight and holding it between her teeth as she watched Stiles flick through his notes. “When Scott and Kira study, they spend most of the time having sex,” she replied, and Stiles winced.

"Yeah, well, neither of them is currently failing American Lit. Or History. Or Math."

Malia growled, but when Stiles pushed his book over, she shuffled closer, leaning her body into him, and Stiles caught the sigh before it fell from his lips, eyes flicking over to the picture on his pinboard before back to his notes.

**

"She just doesn’t understand boundaries, Scott. Like, she’s great, she’s funny and kind of adorable, but also very much like my kid sister! I’m teaching her how to behave like a human; I don’t know any sane people who would find that attractive." Scott stared across the table at him, sympathy clear in his eyes. "I just want one night alone," Stiles whined, sinking in his chair until he was at eye-level with the dinner table.

Scott sighed. “You could tell her to back off? Maybe you’re being too subtle.”

"I don’t want to upset her - she’s not great with trust, and she trusts me now. I just wish that didn’t come with, y’know." Stiles waved his hand around, losing his precarious balance and finally sliding to the floor.

Scott laughed, ducking his head under the table. “You alright there, buddy?”

"Yeah, I think I’m just gonna stay here for a while. Melissa doesn’t mind does she?" Stiles addressed the last part to the pair of shoes walking through the kitchen, and he heard Melissa’s laugh, quickly echoed by Scott.

"Bad luck, dude, she said your dad would arrest her for kidnapping. Or you for B&E."

Stiles grumbled, but crawled out from under the table, startling when he looked up and saw Derek staring bemusedly down at him, lips quirked up at the corners in a small smile. “A little warning, next time,” Stiles said as he rubbed at the back of his head, trying to stop the flicker of his heart when Derek pulled him to his feet.

Stiles pulled his hand away as quickly as possible, shoving it into his hoodie pocket as more of a precautionary measure than anything else.

"Hey, Derek knows about werecoyotes," Scott started excitedly, but Stiles widened his eyes, a sign they’d both agreed to mean ‘shut the hell up’, regardless of circumstances. "Maybe you should help Malia with her shift some, she’s bonded with everyone except you," Scott continued, flawlessly covering the pause in a way that made Stiles want to hug him.

Derek looked between the two, one eyebrow raised. “Sure, Scott, I’ll see what I can do,” he replied drily, and five minutes after Stiles made his excuses and left, scrubbing his hand against his jeans when it itched.

**

"I’ll stay with Stiles," Malia volunteered, as soon as Scott proposed splitting up.

Stiles winced when she took his hand, claws still out as she squeezed. He saw Derek frown out of the corner of his eye, but quickly directed his attention to Scott, folding his face into one of appeal.

"Malia, I think you’d be better off with Kira and Isaac. Derek, with Stiles, I’ll stick with Lydia." Scott looked around the room as they grouped off. "Try not to get killed, and make sure to roar if you need anything." The Pack nodded, and went their separate ways, Stiles following Derek into the underbrush.

He was so focused on studying the red nail marks Malia had left that he didn’t notice Derek stopping, hands coming up automatically to prevent walking into the back of Derek.

"If you could concentrate on the bloodthirsty Elf and not your hands, that would be great," Derek requested, hand coming up to cover Stiles’ mouth when he was about to protest. "Hand," he demanded, and Stiles stared at him in confusion before Derek turned to face him. "Hand." Stiles wordlessly held it up, and Derek grabbed hold of it, the veins on the backs of his hands turning black.

He let go as soon as they started walking again, nearing the clearing where Lydia and Kira had first stumbled across the Elf’s mass grave. “They didn’t hurt that much,” Stiles murmured.

"I thought it would stop you complaining," Derek replied, and the arrival of the tall, thin, dark haired elf covered in blood effectively cut off any retort Stiles would have made.

**

After the Elf thing got cleared up, Scott called a Pack meeting which he sent Stiles and Lydia home early from, claiming he needed to discuss something with the ‘Wolves and he’d fill them in after they’d had a good night’s rest.

Stiles crashed as soon as he’d mumbled a half-assed explanation to his dad, only just making it out of his jeans before he burrowed under the blanket.

So when he heard the window sliding up, and quiet footfalls, he grumbled indiscriminate noises into his pillow before raising his head slightly. “Malia, if you’re here, at least let me be the big spoon.” Instead of a mouthful of hair and a flash of blue eyes, a chuckle filled the room, and Stiles froze because he knew that chuckle.

He spun around, vaguely aware of his hair being flattened on one side, and the sudden movement sent most of his blankets to the floor.

“Dude, why are you here? Where’s Malia?” Stiles asked, swallowing when Derek moved away from the window.

Derek stared at him silently for a second. “Scott talked to her.” Stiles deflated, relief flooding through him, and then a little guilt. “He also talked to me.” That distracted Stiles, and he sat up, fingers playing with the blankets curled around his waist.

“Well, Scott is an interfering Alpha bastard,” he muttered, and Derek shrugged, eyebrows furrowed in what Stiles liked to think of as his ‘emotions’ frown.

Derek sighed. “Do you still want to be the big spoon?” he asked.

Stiles inhaled sharply, voice cracking when he said, “what?”

Derek rolled his eyes, only the fact that he was shifting his weight from foot to foot an indicator that he was nervous. “I like you, idiot.” His tone was somewhere between amused, indulgent, and pained, and Stiles wanted an explanation in more than four words, but tiredness was leaching into his bones again, so he settled back down in the bed, curled up with his back to the window.

“No, you can be the big spoon,” he murmured. There was a pause where Stiles held his breath, and then the bed dipped, and Stiles was enveloped in warmth, a tentative hand resting on his waist.

Stiles sunk back into Derek’s chest as he drifted into sleep, aware of Derek’s arm tightening around him and a face nuzzling his neck before he was lost to the world.


End file.
